Against the Wind

I’ve looked up some more info on the Alcazar in Seville, trying to find information on the various rooms and buildings that we encountered. We didn’t pay for the audio tour, but we were enchanted anyway. I think if I had it to do again, I’d pop for that audio tour.

The courtyard in the photo yesterday is called the Patio de las Doncellas, (Patio of the Maidens). I think I’ve also heard it refered to as the Patio of the Dolls. ‘The name, meaning “The Courtyard of the Maidens”, refers to the legend that the Moors demanded 100 virgins every year as tribute from Christian kingdoms in Iberia. The story of the tribute may have been used as a myth to bolster the Reconquista movement, but it may have had some truth to it in the sexual abuse of Christian women by powerful Moors.’ This is from Wikipedia.

The dome in today’s photo is the crown above the area called Salon de los Embajadores (Embasador’s Hall) It was built in the 1427 in the classic mudejar style, which catholic styles and forms onto the older arab/Moslem styles.

“The dome, with interlaced tracery designs, is also gilded. The frieze below depicts alternating castles and lions. Below that is a border of decorative Kufic inscriptions and 32 female busts. Below that Gothic niches contain portraits of Spanish kings.”

This is the main room of a complex of rooms used for public events and affairs of state. (For example, it was the setting for the marriage in 1526 of Charles V and Isabel of Portugal.) According to Núñez and Morales, “the room follows the architectural scheme of a qubba (Islamic mausoleum), and is one of the areas of the palace that remained from the time of Abbad al-Mutamid, when it was known as the al-Turayya (Pleiades) room.

When I was looking at the photo today, I noticed some arches on the same level as the high balcony, and decided those looked like they had representations of people, which is surely a no no in the Moorish styles, so I looked at another photo, and sure enough, there they were, the kings of Spain, as described by the Bluffton University site quoted above.

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Nice bridge game today, and a Camellia quilter’s guild meeting this evening. I’ll maybe have time for more blogging tomorrow… or not.

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This two minute video put out by the Republican party shows vividly why the Democratic party will be in trouble this election cycle. Oddly, when Reagan was president, I was quite happy to dengrate him as the actor buffoon president. Mind poisoning, that. I realized just how much we had to thank him for when they were forced in obituaries to point out all that he accomplished. His words as edited into this clip surely resonate.

It’s just that they know so much that isn’t so.

Two days ago, the world was wonderful. Yesterday about the time the school kids came home, I finished my quilt blocks for the round robin. I designed them for a 1″ square, forgot the plan and ended up with a two inch square. Oddly enough, my strip was going to be twice as long as the row needed to be.

Crash! Into the depths of despond. This morning while walking I figured out what I was going to do with those semi wonderful, now excess blocks, and almost figured what to do for go two on the round robin.

Life is suddenly quite good again. Tonight I teach a quilting class at the library, which will rev up my motors a bit as well, as over the years I’ve truly come to enjoy teaching, I just got totally disgusted with sundry issues at my school in particular, and with post secondary education in general. I’m still a teacher, so I think I’ll have fun tonight.

But first, over to Abita Springs to continue the practice on the long arm quilting machine.

In Alcazar. More description later.

Some days are just blessings. This was one of them. Some of the highlights? I spoke to Linda, my high school buddy at length. Thoroughly enjoyed our visit. C– my walking and bridge buddy got some very good news on lab results from her husband’s x-rays. They’d been told there was a mass on his kidneys, and now the Dr. says he sees no such thing. Cameron started school, got off the bus, and was so pleased with himself for being such a big guy, he could hardly stand all that pride. Went to stitch at the library bee, and almost was applauded there. It was so good to be back to the library bee. And that was just the beginning. It was a very good day!

Tomorrow includes some dentistry, and may not be so much fun.

So, back to photos and time on a tour on a cruise line.
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The next few days will be photos from the Alcazar in Seville. I’ve posted a few of the photos from there, but never got to pick out my favorites, so this time through maybe I’ll get that task under control.

An alcázar is a type of Spanish castle, from the Arabic word ????? al qasr meaning palace or fortress.

Wikipedia

The Alcazar need not mean the Alcazar in Seville, which is such a lovely spot it is still the residence of the royals when they are in Seville. It was built in 900 something by the head of one of the Moslem dynasties that ruled Spain.

The architectural detail is overpowering. This photo is just a detail from the one above, but shows the ornateness on top more ornate that is characteristic of the place. The other characteristic would be the lovely gardens.

A detail that intrigued me was the bit on the left hand side of the main doorway area.  The whole building is draped with a canvas while the building undergoes renovation and reconstruction.  That would be a continual process, but I thought it was very neat that the canvas was covered with an image of what the building behind it should look like, so it’s not so jarring.  They used the same thing in Venice on St. Mark’s square.

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And it’s been a while, and I’ve not talked politics. But Obama’s approval ratings are right there along with what Bush’s were, and this with a very friendly press corps. So I’ll take a shot too, though I hope to keep it rare. I continue to pray that he will find footing and lead for the next couple of years. Just not well enough to be reelected!

So I found it nearly humorous to run into this plea by a partisan. Mark Halperin,

in his piece “Obama’s Islamic-Center Stance: Why the GOP Shouldn’t Run Against It,” Halperin–seemingly on bended knee–writes to the GOP:

If you go full force on the offensive, every Democratic candidate in every competitive race in the country will have three choices, none of them good, when asked about the Islamic center: side with Obama and against public opinion; oppose Obama and deal with the consequences of intraparty disunity; or refuse to take a position, waffling impotently and unattractively at a crucial time.

This by way of Big Peace. My goodness if a Republican president is making an ass of himself, do you suppose for a minute the hounds with typewriters would let him go unchallenged? Obama opened the door full wide for the attacks, and deserves to be attacked. Shame on the GOP if they don’t make political hay out of Barak’s support of the building of a mosque near the site of the twin towers.

I’m libertarian enough to say, yeah, they have every right to build there. But it’s a crude triumphalist gesture, and we’re more the fools if we allow that. And BHO is the biggest fool for thinking he can support it one day and weasel out the next. What an ass of a man. And what fools we the American people for electing him.

One of the Southern expressions I ran into and loved today was, “I must have brushed my teeth with gunpowder this morning.” This from Jane of the quilt guild! She was shooting off her mouth a bit, and she’s normally very reserved and proper. I too must have used the wrong tooth powder.

On April 19, Betsi and I took our first excursion with the cruise line. The Gem docked in Cadiz, but most of the excursions were going to Seville. We booked a “Seville on Your Own” tour. The bus took us to Seville, and we explored at our leisure. The Alcazar in Seville was our main destination, and we walked through it and some of the gardens. I was shutter happy, as the mixture of Moorish and Catholic architecture was eye popping.

Traveling from Cadiz to Seville, I was impressed with how many wind turbines they had setting out on the hills of Southern Spain, in amongst the olive and orange trees, there were hundreds of wind turbines.   Where is Don Quixote when you need him?

The photo is from the bus. I was quite taken by all the buildings constructed for a World’s Fair. This one is decorated with ceramic tiles in opalescent colors.

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I got to see my granddaughter today. She has a little eye infection, but otherwise looks the picture of health. Tomorrow is a big day for Cameron. He’s starting school, and will have a whole day in class.

Father Abraham has many sons.
Many sons has Father Abraham.
I am one of them and so are you.
We are sons of Father Abraham.
Right FOOT.

The kids sang that little ditty to the group assembled for a pot luck supper at church a couple of weeks ago. Cute, but kinda silly, yes?

Yesterday I ran into a similar thought, “We are all descendants of Confucius.” I would tell you that I notice the source of items that catch my attention, but I cannot relocate to link this one this morning.

Anyway, the argument goes thus. If you follow your family tree back 10 generations, you have 2^10 ancestors. Ah, crud, the calculator has gone missing too. Forward, anyway. That’s 1024 fore bearers on your family tree. Now go back 100 generations, something like 2000 years, (figuring 20 years for a generation) and you have 2^100 = 1.26 x 10^30 ancestors, which is a very big number. The population then of the entire world is estimated at 170,000,000. That is so much smaller than your predicted number of ancestors, that you can say with probability approaching 1 that everyone of those 170 million people living 2000 years ago who have a line of offspring living to this day and time is an ancestor of yours.

Father Abraham has many sons…

I personally am in a direct line from several of Jesus’s disciples, as well as Caesar Augustus. How about you? Who would you like to claim as an ancestor?

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Hmmmm It’s 8 am and no boys yet. Did Darryl forget to bring them by? Quentin would be her chomping at the bit to go play in the school yard if he were here. Marianne was planning to come by to pick them up a bit later. We do have communication issues in this family! The staff is ill informed as to what the day’s plan is!

Part of the plan is a celebration of Darryl’s birthday. The pseudo son in law is turning 27 or so? I lose track.
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Now for a photo of the day. I’m still digesting the cruise. I cannot believe I went and did that. But it was an opportunity that probably wasn’t coming around again anytime soon. So here is a picture of an exhausted Betsi, as we reboarded the Gem.

Lisbon was the second port of call that we did on our own. We had some hits and some misses. I’m a great believer in following leads that the “natives” offer, and on the cruise ship, the computer support guy was Portuguese, though his address was in Cape Town. He said the place to see to get a taste Portugal was the Museo du Fado. That is something of a folk style of music particular to Portugal, and as I like world music, and enjoy folk culture, I think that would have been right up my alley. BUT getting to the Museo du Traje taking the subway and then walking a few blocks was more than Betsi could do. So, we were pulled in two directions, I wanted to go more, though I’d about hit my limit as well.

Anyway, you travel great distances on a big boat with an acquaintance, and sometimes your interests are not going to mesh. No great surprise there. Mostly we’re both able to compromise, take turns and enjoy whatever adventure we ended up upon.

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This article caught my eye because I vividly recall while working the polls for the presidential election a young man with a severe spinal injury coming in to vote. He was particularly interested in seeing Obama elected because he wanted to see stem cell research opened back up, after the Bush rules slowed progress. Now the FDA is standing in the way. How is that big government thing working for you these days, guys? Politico

There may be a new wave of blogging in the morning. I’m now the g’ma in charge of two before and after school. Quentin couldn’t wait to get to Clearwood this morning. He wanted to go to learn? Nah. He wanted to see the kids on the school ground before school. He’s nothing if not a social animal. Tara arrived with the boys and an apple to cut up about 7:20 this morning. She went through all Q’s paperwork and filled and signed all the forms, asking Quentin to add his signature to a few.

“What’s the date, Mom?”
“8/10/10″
“Oh, yesterday was 8/9/10,” is my meager contribution to this conversation.
“10/10″ says Tara in babyish tones.
Quentin and Cameron giggle. Tenten is what the baby Cameron called his brother.

Aren’t little family jokes grand?

Meanwhile, Quentin and Cameron were back and forth, in and out, with Stella the three legged WienieWaWa, who normally lives with them. Mom, can you take Stella to the vet’s appointment today? She’s got this condition…

And she does. Last time I saw her she had bad looking scratches on her back, as if maybe a hawk had tried to take her home. Now half her back is bald and the wounds look like they’re healing over. But now it’s time to take her to the vet. Silly little dog. Anyway, just call me STAFF? The things we do for love!

I’m out in a couple of minutes to get the vet appointment done.

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Found on the web this morning:

One of my righty blogs pointed to The Washington Rebel Which I checked out and added to my blog links. This morning they have an interesting essay the historical sources and psychological sources of a galloping cultural nihilism.

There were cabins and shelters built by CCC crews all over the mountain ranges in Oregon and Washington that went unmolested for years. If a stranded hiker needed food, he ate what he found, but replaced it later. The expectation was that the next poor sap might need the same rescue. If a window was broken, it got replaced. The culture that raised “the greatest generation that never was” respected property that didn’t belong to them (as opposed to merely “private property”) and, more importantly understood the sacred relationship of personal responsibility to your fellow man. This is the key that was tossed to the side in the Sixties.

With this as a jumping off place, the writer goes into society as a mirror of family dynamics, and the role of the father as an authority figure. Interesting connections. Read it and see what you think.
Mother-Father-Subversion
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AND still trying to move through the photo cache, today’s offering is still from Lisbon. I posted this previously, but it’s definitely one of the better shots from my travels. The old tower, fortress against mauraders, and the young fellow busy using the cell camera, or texting. Old world, new world. Make acquaintance!

So, make a good day. Mine’s starting. News today that Dede’s father died. Dede has been a good quilting buddy here in town. Death of the father starts some emotional upheaval in us all.

Yesterday was the first day I really could look around and say, “hmmm.. I could clean this place up, if I felt like it.”  Didn’t feel like it.  But that’s indicative of the swampedness I’ve experienced in this blessed retirement gig.

So, the biggest lastest news from this part of the world is the Trini nuptials of Marianne and Barry.  The fates decree that I have no idea what I think or feel about something when it’s happening.  I only figure these things out after I look at the pictures or write about them.  This week, the photos have been coming in hot and heavy, and some of them are magnificent.

Barry and his family knocked themselves out entertaining a tribe of North Americans.  So we were able to go and enjoy the wedding with no hotel expenses, and not much food expense.  What a gift to each of us.  However…

We were about 20 adults and four small children living in Barry’s Aunt Ruby and Uncle Gerod’s home.  They were kind enough to open the house for us.  We tried not to abuse their hospitality too badly.   In some respects it was like a mini episode of reality TV, where you’re living for a week with family and strangers.  Marianne’s friends mostly were the people she worked with while she was working at Dante’s On the River.  Most worked in the kitchen.  My best characterization of the friends that I didn’t know already is that they were foodies.

There were tricks learning about Trini plumbing, and air conditioning, and trying to save the household goods from all the small children.  You see Ruby and Gerod had moved next door to take care aging ailing relatives.  So their three story house was mostly empty, but it still had many of their belongings and bric-a-brac.

Here is a view from the top of the stairs leading to the back veranda.  (Ginny’s photo)

This view of Claxton Bay is not terribly flattering, but Trinidad has nothing resembling building codes like we’re used to, nor zoning, and it all has a mixed up hard working, tropical vibe.

However, the view from the hotel is an entirely different story.  This is where my friends Pat and Sandy stayed.  Looking out from the bar into to bay is quite a nice view.

We never even saw the water from anywhere else in town.

Marianne and Barry and his friends and family did hard duty running back and forth to the airport the week before the wedding.  Thursday as Carlo and my friends were flying to Trinidad and Tobago, Marianne and Barry were taking the arrivals from the day before up to the north coast of Trinidad to a beach area.  After a full day of beach, they came with two cars to gather us up from the airport.

Friday, the rehearsal dinner was planned for the wedding site, and some of the guys decided to hit the local market and make some New Orleans style crabs for the dinner.  The non cooks got busy and arranged a taxi to see the Waterloo temple area of Trinidad, and then go to San Fernando, probably the third largest city in Trinidad, and fairly close to Claxton Bay.

It’s totally possible to believe you’ve somehow gone to India in the temple area.  I’ll put in a couple of my photos from that day as well as one Ginny posted on the group site on shutterfly.

A mission from India came and built the temple that has this dome outside.  It’s recently built and painted and it’s just spectacular.

Waterloo temple is on the water, and a site for cremations.   It’s lovely as well, but less colorful than the new temple.

And of course there needs be a couple of photos from the wedding itself.    I didn’t even take my camera.  The photographer’s photos are excerpted on Marianne’s facebook site if you want to be her friend.

Joe, one of the bridesmaid’s sig. other took these photos.   Carlo looks a bit nervous, but he’s a bunch more photogenic than I.

And at the altar

After a night of partying there was some clean up of the site, and then… we flew en mass to Tobago.   One photo of a very tired Barry and Marianne.  Barry’s eyes are blood shot, he’s not slept much for many days.   After a few days on Tobago, most of us flew home, but Barry and Marianne took a few of the remaining friends to a guest house in the Northern Range.

And that was the week that was.  It took me a couple weeks to recover.  Barry came home and returned to work the day after.  WOW!

If you haven’t had your photo fix, my photos are on  Shutterfly .  I think this is a link to a slide show of about 30 of the photos that I took.

Whew!  I’m tired just getting this written!   I turned 60 the day before the wedding. I’m feeling my years.

Ok, help me out here, is this add on the tube? Daddy would say, “best 60 seconds on television.”

N.B. We miss our choices when we pass more and more parts of our lives over to the government bureaucrats. A free market add by a fast foodery. Maybe it’s not ironic when I think about all the food police I see lurking about.
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This building on a main square in the comercial center of Lisbon has a sign in one window indicating police. All the architectural detail signifies that it was not built for the police. This building has a history. I’m curious. The history of this building might tell a lot about the history of Portugal.

I’ve been thinking a good deal about teaching religion to middle school aged kids. I have volunteered myself, no I was asked but I didn’t back out, to do a youth group for the three young ladies we have of that age. I’m clueless.

I recall a great deal of earnestness when I was that age, trying to figure out the world, and feeling that it was all grossly unfair! But I was always interested in religion. My sense however is that we do a lot of pap and crap and call it religious studies.

The idea of just reading bible stories is not new. So I decided to read a bit of the Bible to Quentin and Cameron. Don’t you know there’s a reference to Adam and Eve knowing they were naked before the garden of Eden story. Quentin asked about that in a hurry. We’ve gotten to chapter 5 which is all the begats including Methusela and the 900+ years. I may go ahead and read a readers digest version of that, or maybe we’ll talk about why it may be important to state who is the father of whom, even if these are more myth and tall tale than history. Or, maybe it’s like sex, you answer any questions, but try not to answer the ones that aren’t asked.

A dress from the Museo du Traje…about 150 years old…

And some detail of the fine work in the gauzy fabric

“My greatest takeaway from Matt Drudge … was his sense of individualism, to follow your path. And so, Drudge is Drudge and I’m me.” Andrew Breithbart (from a hagiography)

The source of the quote is not meant to be provocative. Not really. I just saw that and figured that’s the deal in my life, I’m just a whole lot less successful with it than he is. But the rest of my life I hope to dedicate to being me. That sounds dead egotistical, narcissistic. But I don’t want it to be. I’ll leave

I went to a wonderful wedding in Trinidad. The sort of event that is a dream sequence. I look at the photographer’s photos and I wonder why on earth all my posture, my attitude is that of a schlub. I’ve come to accept that I’m terribly uncomfortable in a social gathering where I don’t know more than half the folks around. I always feel judged and found wanting in any social setting. I’m ok in a small group or a big one where I know most everyone.

One thing I did in Trinidad was to celebrate my 60th birthday. I’ve decided that I will NOT be bothered by my sense of inadequacy, and put myself into a situation where I’m doomed to fail by choice. I just won’t do it ever again.

Or, I might, because I also refuse to start digging my grave, and making and keeping such a pledge may well be to move several large shovels of earth. So, I’ll try to also heed Baggin’s warning…

“Remember what Bilbo used to say: It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”

Writing has been problematic the last week or so. I always feel like I should be quilting. And I should. But I’ve made good progress today, and I’m not asking more. Good progress with two busy boys here is not much sewing, but I’ll take what I can get, and call it enough.

A parting shot… An icon of Lisbon, Bethlehem Tower.